


some loud sadness in the night

by YPethauPwysigIawn



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depressed Jaskier | Dandelion, Established Relationship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Healthy Relationships, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YPethauPwysigIawn/pseuds/YPethauPwysigIawn
Summary: Mental illness isn't often rational, rarely is it reasonable, but it is always present and can show its ugly head out of nowhere. Jaskier has a tough night, a few of them really, but he also has Geralt to love and to be loved by.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	some loud sadness in the night

**Author's Note:**

> As for the writer - not my first language; but as for many readers - also not their first language, so let's be kind to each other

Jaskier lies on his side, facing Geralt. He listens to the small huffs of breath the other makes, watches his profile sketched by the moonlight. It is not yet dawn, won't be for at least an hour still, but the night is starry. Regardless, Jaskier much prefers to credit the kind shadows to the gentle illumination from the sleeping city. Be it eclipse, the many streetlamps outside would themselves be enough to form shapes out of darkness of their bedroom, and it's the streetlamps Jaskier chooses to regard now.

Were he to acknowledge the stars, their presence and merit, he might cry. He decidedly would cry, not even able to consciously pinpoint what had set him off. It is just that his heart has been so heavy recently, and so very brittle, and it just kept chipping at the edges at every beautiful sight and each sad news. 

So at 3 a.m. Jaskier lies on his side awake, palms curled beneath his cheek, and watches Geralt thoughtlessly. Sprawled on his back, taking up the lion's share of the bed, Geralt is deeply asleep, serene and quiet. His face is open and relaxed, tilted just so towards Jaskier, his sure heartbeat almost visible through the cotton of his shirt, his stomach rising and falling steadily. Jaskier smiles, the musician in him happy for some proper diaphragmatic breathing even in moments of sadness.

Unexpectedly that is what makes him short-circuit. Jaskier is no longer floating and thougthless, he is suddenly very aware of the incessant burden of having love sloshing around one's chest like a fucking ocean coupled with a heart that does not know how to swim. Feeling feelings is grand and all, but having even their tiniest representatives bloom red on his cheeks and ears, or stream down his face in salty droplets, or wrap themselves around his throat and stomach, that is not grand in the slightest. Just as one can't blame a mole for drowning in a flood, neither can they blame such a heart for drowning.

Jaskier isn't sure he would mind if it finally did. There he is, lying on his side at 3:40 a.m., with a dam building up pressure. He knows he can make himself cry, he knows he can feed his own fragile feeble mind with twisted cruel thougts, pick at his own scabbed insecurities until the wounds reopen and bleed. Jaskier knows he can make himself cry if he so decides, but he also knows he cannot cry right now, not at this peaceful sacred moment with Geralt so near and so good and so unaware. While that is what Jaskier had admittedly done before, shed silent tears into the cradle of his own hands and felt relief in the refuge of Geralt's presence, that definitely can't happen now, because somehow Jaskier has lost the ability to cry silently and so he cannot cry anywhere near Geralt.

So Jaskier gets up and meanders his way through the flat. He picks up a book off the sofa and sets it on a shelf, straightens the living room blinds, collects the dirty mugs and deposits them in the kitchen sink. He pauses there. He can see first morning light creeping onto the wall. It has become his acquintance, but not his friend, these past many nights when he only falls asleep at daybreak to then wake when the evening is fast approaching. Jaskier falls asleep just short of when Geralt wakes, and wakes not long before the other comes home from work. It isn't ideal, he knows, and he also knows Geralt isn't happy and that Geralt worries.

But the way Jaskier sees it, it isn't irresponsible. He spends the awake hours doing his share, he cooks good meals for the following day, he tidies the flat, waters the plants, brings out the bins on collection days, keeps his nails trimmed and his body hydrated. He is functioning, he is keeping himself human, even if not much of a person, and that is what works for now. 

And he isn't on his own much. He sometimes uses the time between his waking and Geralt's return to let off steam, now that he has somehow unintentionally unleashed his inner banshee and needs privacy to sob, to make loud ugly sounds, to get all red faced and wipe away the snot. He needs privacy to do all that at silly triggers, the smell of rain, a beautiful story, a tragic event, any event really, a sad song, Bells of Notre Dame in particular recently. He needs not to have to explain sometimes. 

So all in all, the routine works for now. Jaskier knows everything isn't well, but as far as coping mechanisms go that isn't a bad one. There is a new softness at his hips and a roundness under his shirt that wasn't there before, but they are not for the Jaskier of today to worry about. They are for the Jaskier who will be able to feel the sun on his face in the park, the one able to get Geralt to spot him at the gym, the one running errands all day in a frenzy. So yes, that's on him, and the current Jaskier just has to make sure the future one has some living material to work with.

The strain from the dam in him is gone. Just as swiftly as it appeared it has ebbed away. Jaskier frowns, and he steps from the kitchen to the living room. He stands there, wraps his arms around himself, suddenly aware of the morning chill in the air. How fleeting was the despair that mere minutes ago had him want to claw his heart out of his chest? Why did it leave and when will it be back? Jaskier turns around, arms still draped protectively around himself, touching his own hair and back of the neck and shoulders as if looking for scars, and sees Geralt leaning in from the corridor. 

"Geralt. Is it time for you to be awake yet? I don't think I heard the alarm-"

"There wasn't one" spoken softly; Geralt is taking measured steps in his direction, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. Jaskier slowly unhooks his arms, as if unsure of the world around himsel. "Did I wake you then? I tried to keep quiet out here" Jaskier is still as Geralt stands so close that their chests are touching and as he hooks his chin over Jaskier's shoulder. "It was the lack of you that woke me" he murmurs into the back of Jaskier's neck, his breath leaving goosebumps in its trail. "It is not a time for you to be awake either, as much as I dislike our new sleeping arrangements" Geralt continues, and sighing wraps his arms around Jaskier's middle. 

"I think I went out here to cry, you know?" Jaskier frankly surprises himself with the straightforward honesty of his answer, but Geralt only humms encouragingly. When Jaskier wants to continue, however, he can find nothing but silence within.

"What made you want to? And why out here alone?" Geralt's voice rumbles near his ear when it becomes clear, that no disclosure will be given freely. Jaskier takes a sharp decisive breath in. Then slowly lets it out, and takes a new one, one to open a new path and switch directions to stop a crash

"I am tired. So very deeply bone tired and I know you are too. Geralt, I have so much love and adoration for you. If you fell into my heart you would never hit the bottom. I don't have those answers now, I had them, but they ran away, so please just love me until I can give them to you." Jaskier isn't crying, that is the whole point, but his breathing is unsteady and his voice is shaky. The night left him feeling like a spring pulled taut and then slowly loosened, never released and never allowed to bounce back to its shape. 

Nerves, nerves like he doesn't get even before a big performance. But this is a life, his own, and Geralt's, and it's nothing like a performance, so the nerves are welcomed and given a cup of good strong tea. Jaskier himself is being led onto a sofa and wrapped in some ancient throw, his limbs tangling with Geralt's. Sun has long risen, and Jaskier's head is truly swimming with exhaustion. Before he fades into dreams he hears, said clearly, "There is no world where you aren't with me, Jaskier. I will always wait for you."

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to show how ones mental health issues, even fluctuating over the span of a few hours like the Welsh sea at tides, are still valid.
> 
> I also tried to convey some hope for those of us maybe struggling a bit - let me know if it comes through or if I should make it come off STRONGER. 
> 
> Love you bunch, stay safe and cared for, even if only by yourselves (for now)


End file.
